The Duke had heavily guarded the estate after the ball, as though he feared I might flee.
I had no clear plan of escape—yet there was still time.
The entire morning, I spent trying to summon my powers again, but to no avail.
I considered speaking with Henry, yet with the Duke ever present, it proved difficult.
I debated whether I ought to tell Henry of my conversation with Aaron.
In the end, I resolved to trust him. I could not escape without his aid—and I trusted him far more than Leo.
And even in the worst case—if he told the Duke—what then? I was already caged. He could not confine me further.
That evening, I quietly slipped to Henry's chamber.
I knocked.
"Enter."
I pushed the door open slightly and peeked inside.
He looked up—and at once rose in alarm.
"Aria! What are you doing here?!"
"I… I require your help."
"With what?"
I took a breath. "It is but a small request… I need you to help me escape the dukedom."
His eyes widened. "What?!"
I told him everything.
When I finished, I said softly, "You see… I must go to my family."
A shadow crossed his face at my words, yet he nodded.
"I understand."
He paused, then continued, "That explains the increased security. He must know they have found you… But why would they not simply claim you? Why ask you to flee?"
"I wondered the same," I said. "I believe they do not wish the Duke to know we are related… though I know not why. That is why I must go. I need answers. I must know who I am."
"Give me some time to think," he said.
"Very well… Oh—by the way, I attempted to use my powers again, but nothing happened."
He considered this. "When do your powers appear strongest?"
I thought for a moment. "When I am… angry. Or overwhelmed."
"Then perhaps," he said, "you must summon that feeling—direct it."
His words made sense.
He rose. "It grows late. You should return to your room."
I wished him good night and left.
Back in my chamber, I tried once more.
I fixed my gaze upon the comb and thought of the Duke—the man I hated most.
But nothing happened.
At last, I surrendered to sleep.
-------------------------------
My master's classes had begun a week ago, and today was my first lecture in Child and Adolescent Development—a class I had been looking forward to.
I headed to Classroom A. The lecture was held by Professor Gaddini—I thought he might be Italian. I wondered what he looked like.
I took a seat in the middle—not too close, not too far—and started doodling in my notebook.
Then—
A deep voice filled the room.
I looked up.
And there he was.
James.
His eyes found mine instantly—steady, knowing—and a faint smile touched his lips.
My stomach flipped.
Heat rushed to my face as the memory of his kiss came flooding back.
I can't believe he's my professor.
His lecture… was effortless.
Smooth. Engaging. Controlled.
I did not feel a single moment of boredom.
When the class ended, I lingered, pretending to organize my notes until the room emptied.
Soon, it was only the two of us.
"What a beautiful coincidence," he said.
"I can't believe you're my professor."
He tilted his head slightly, a slow smirk forming.
"It makes things… more interesting, don't you think?"
I blushed. "But we can't date, it will get you in trouble."
He didn't answer right away.
And before I could stop myself, I spoke—
"You didn't call me."
The words slipped out more softly than I intended.
He looked at me—really looked this time—his gaze steady, unreadable.
"I was intending to," he said calmly, his voice low, controlled. "After I settled down."
Something about the way he said it… made it sound like a promise, not an excuse.
I crossed my arms lightly, trying to steady myself.
"That sounds like something people say when they don't actually plan to."
A faint smile appeared on his lips—slow, knowing.
"Does it?" he said, taking a step closer. "And yet… here I am."
My breath caught.
"And here you are," he added quietly.
The air between us shifted—warmer, heavier.
"I didn't expect this," I admitted.
"Neither did I," he said.
Then, after a brief pause, his voice dropped slightly, "but I'm not disappointed."
My heart skipped.
Silence lingered—charged, almost dangerous.
Then he straightened slightly, as if drawing a line himself.
"Let us think about it… over dinner tonight."
I nodded.
"Alright."
"I'll pick you up at eight," he said. "Send me your address."
He handed me his number.
I took it, still feeling the weight of his gaze.
I had no idea how I made it through the rest of the day.
I got home around six.
David was already there, cooking.
"Perfect timing," he said. "Dinner's almost ready."
"I can't eat with you tonight," I said. "I have a date."
He froze.
"A date?" His tone sharpened.
"With who?"
"You won't believe it… the man I met on your business trip."
His eyes narrowed. "How?"
"He's my professor," I said, still a little in disbelief. "My Child Development professor."
Silence.
Then—
"Isn't it against the rules for a professor to fuck his students?"
I stared at him. "What is your problem? Why are you talking like that?"
"He's too old for you," David snapped. "And he's your teacher. It's wrong on every level."
"He's not," I said firmly. "And I like him."
"You don't know anything about him," he shot back, his voice rising.
"Guys like that? They know exactly what they're doing. He just wants a young girl to sleep with."
Something in me snapped.
"What is wrong with you today?" I said, my voice shaking with anger. "Is it really that strange that someone might actually like me? Not everyone is like you—jumping from girl to girl like it means nothing!"
His jaw tightened.
"Yeah?" he said, stepping closer. "At least I'm honest about it."
I didn't wait for more.
I didn't want to hear it.
I turned, walked straight to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.